Shadow Realms
by sydneysages
Summary: Life's settled in Morganville: the Glass House Gang are getting on with their lives, Myrnin's making plans to blow up buildings and use the remains for science, and Amelie's keeping a semblance of law and order. But when Myrnin makes a discovery about Claire, it's down to him to keep her safe from things she never previously considered a threat. CHAPTER ONE IS A PROLOGUE


Hello! So I haven't started a new multichap for a while, and this idea sprang to mind: I just had to write it!

It's canon up to the end of Black Dawn, and from then on it's AU (though some elements of canon post BD may come into play).

The story will **not** focus on romance. If it's involved, it'll be a sub-sub-plot. There are many more interesting things to discuss!

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There was little light on the dark December morning: a strange fog hung in the air obscuring the stars from sight, and this part of Morganville had no man-made lighting. Graveyards were not places for fanfare, and anyway, this was a vampire town. If there was no place for the _special_ residents to act like stereotypical vampires, there would be…silent rebellion; it had almost happened once, after all.

A certain coolness clung to the air following the brief rainstorm, yet it did not bother the one visitor within Morganville's graveyard. Raindrops had fallen upon her skin and, due to the moisture being warmer than the surface upon which it landed, had begun to freeze, crystallising into strange patterns. There was no logic to the rain: it landed where it landed, froze where it landed, and thus the shapes formed were nothing more than an accident—nothing more than God's design.

Something which, to Amelie, was extremely important.

How long she had been there was a mystery even to Amelie. Her eyes had been fixed upon the marble tombstone for the course of her visit, and not even the weather had forced her to leave. She sat facing a rather under-visited grave with her legs folded to the side, one hand pressed into the ground with the other resting within her lap; she had no reason to move when the person she was engaged in conversation was not moving, no?

Only the night before did Amelie realise she had not visited Samuel's—Sam's—grave for over three months. At first she had stopped visiting to try and wean herself off the red-haired man with the lopsided smile he sometimes straightened for her. It hadn't worked, but at least she got the majority of her paperwork done rather than staring at a tombstone praying for the person underneath to return to her.

Before long, the drama and trouble which seemed to encircle her had returned to the forefront of her life: Oliver had attempted to take her town _again_; her father had escaped just to be defeated by none other than her coward friend; their most dangerous enemy had struck at their lives once again, just to be eternally defeated. Her life had almost been lost several times, and only as she lay on the couch in her former home did Amelie realise that she had almost forgotten about Sam.

Well, that was a little strong. She couldn't exactly forget about someone who was always pressing on her mind: she had just prioritised and managed to force him to the back of her rather cavernous brain. Yet as she had lay dying, Amelie regretted not paying her respects more frequently—she vowed that at the very first opportunity she would come to the graveyard and not leave until she had paid her rather-large debt of remembrance.

As she sat, Amelie had thought through every possible way of bringing the dead back to life. She had gone through every single page of her father's book, only to discover she had never memorised the necromancy 'spells'—and she very much doubted Myrnin would have left them in the original book for her to find. It was doubtful they would have worked anyway: she had never been able to work much of the magic her father had wrought. It was most likely a good thing—it proved she was not filled with darkness—but it was what prevented her Sam being returned to her.

Whilst she had set Myrnin the task of finding a way to return her love, the continually elapsing time suggested he was very unlikely to find a solution. It was probably a good thing, she understood, for the world had changed since Sam Glass had lived, and he most likely would not appreciate the changes she had undergone. Yet if there was even a possibility of him returning, she would take it. No matter what the cost was, she would pay it without a second thought.

"My lady?" A voice broke through Amelie's mental discussion, and for the first time in many hours she broke eye contact with Sam's name.

It was Oliver, unsurprisingly. A cursory glance over his face suggested he was concerned for her; his outstretched hand only added to that interpretation.

"Did you forget my orders, Oliver, that I am not to be disturbed when I leave without my guards?" Amelie asked, accepting his hand to rise gracefully to her feet. Oliver towered over her, yet she was aware that power was more than just physical strength: it was within her, and she exuded a great deal more than her former nemesis.

"I did not forget, Amelie. I merely came to inform you that sunrise is merely ten minutes away, and you have an appointment with the Danvers girl at eight o'clock—you do not want to be late."

"Do not attempt to presume what I do or do not want," Amelie snapped, anger flashing where previously there was nought but emptiness and melancholy. It soon faded, and part of her regretted the outburst. "Though…thank you for informing me of the time. I had neglected to take a watch with me on my visit."

As they began to walk towards the gates of the graveyard, Amelie's periphery catalogued Oliver's facial expression. It had always been clear to her that he had resented Sam—even when they were no closer than two allies against her father, he had disliked that another man could reach her where he could not. Sam's death had done nothing to ease that resentment: if anything, it seemed to Amelie as though it had intensified it.

Part of her felt a little guilt that she continued to allow the past to control her thoughts and actions, yet the majority of her did not. Oliver was aware of her connections when he attempted to court her, and she did not need to make it clear that he would never compare to Samuel Glass.

"Ah, just before I left, Myrnin came to your office with a message, one I did not understand." Oliver spoke suddenly, jerking Amelie out of yet another thought montage focusing upon Sam. "I thought it nonsense, yet I promised I would pass on the message, and I will not have that dog thinking he can get the better of me."

"Yes, Oliver, I understand that you are quite honourable and keep your word—the message?" Amelie had to resist rolling her eyes: the day Oliver and Myrnin agreed on something would be the day she died, she feared.

"He said to inform you that it is a code one on the brown monkey scale, and that if you do not give him thirteen green elephants within an hour of receiving this…_turnkey_, the mozzarella-laden turnips will turn to ash." Oliver's nose wrinkled as he finished the message, evidently expecting Amelie to find the message amusing.

Amusing was something she did _not_ find the message, however—it was far from how she felt: elated, intrigued and a tad worried.

For this very specific message was the code Amelie had given Myrnin to pass on if he was ever even part of the way towards discovering a way to bring Samuel Glass back to life.

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If you favourite, please review! I've been atrocious at review replies over the past few months, but I'm finally getting some more time so I'll try and reply!


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